Discworld Music Meme 1
by MistressParamore
Summary: Another clutch of eclectic music a la Sam Vimes and Sybil Ramkin.


**Discworld Music Meme 1**

An eclectic mix of songs a la Vimes/Sybil.

_**OK, fic information:**_

**Fandom**: Terry Pratchett's Discworld.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. But imitation is the sincerest form of flattery!

**Pairing**: _**Vimes/Sybil**_. Because they rock!

**Rating**: Insinuations, nothing _too_ graphic. They don't have time!

_**Erasure – Breath of Life (Accapella Dub Mix)**_

Vimes's fingers itched, unbidden his hand crawled down the side of his desk and curled traitorously around the knob of the bottom drawer.

_Stop it_! His mind screamed at him, banging its fists against the inside of his head. _One sip of that and everything that could be yours will disappear_….. _Well_, his other mind shrugged, _she'll find out soon enough, may as well do it now before it's too late_.

The hand gripped and pulled. A bottle of Bearhuggers finest mind melter appeared before him. Fumes strong enough to strip paint assaulted his nostrils. Smiling coldly, Vimes lifted the bottle to his lips and drank.

_**Garbage – No 1 Crush**_

The sound of the Ramkin mansions front door closing reverberated in Vimes's head. An imperceptible pause, and he continued walking. Anger built up inside him, boiling up a head of steam that promised to be epic. He felt cheated, betrayed, used, _useless_. It wasn't meant to be this way. She wasn't meant to do this. Vimes knew words weren't his forte, they tripped up his tongue and he stammered into silence. Surely she knew what he would do for her. Vimes wasn't a words man, he was a man whose actions showed his feelings. He just couldn't believe it had gone so wrong.

_**Matthew Sweet – Sick of Myself**_

Sybil was blown away. She stared through the visor of the dragon protective clothing at the watchman in front of her and had to remember to breathe. Moody, sullen, street-hardened, he was everything that made her heart race. She had never imagined she would be struck at first sight by anyone, but he was just so delicious. Stepping backwards she gestured for the watchman to step inside the dragon enclosure. One thing she was sure of, she couldn't let this man walk out of her life.

_**Carbon Based Lifeforms – Photosynthesis**_

Sybil sank back against the front door, one hand pressed to her mouth. Hot tears burned her eyes. Had she read him wrong? Was she so much more into their friendship than he was and scared him away? He didn't seem to be the type to run away from anything. She just _knew_, when she looked at him, when she saw his dark eyes look at her, she wasn't mistaking the heat in the depths of those eyes. This couldn't be the end. Sybil was nothing if not resourceful. Pulling her dress back into shape, she blew her nose and applied herself to coming up with another plan.

_**Keane – Snowed Under (B-Side)**_

Lord Rust glared at Sybil Ramkin. "You're _what_?" The raw incredulity on his face made her want to laugh, but she knew that would be an incredibly bad idea.

"You heard me, Ronnie," Sybil said remarkably mildly.

"But, _married_? To that jumped up imposter Vimes? He's only after the money," Rust sneered.

_And you wouldn't have been I suppose_? Sybil thought in the privacy of her head. _Thank the gods, just thank the gods I turned YOU down_….

"Thank you Ronnie," she said firmly, in a tone that left Rust in no doubt that he was no longer welcome. Glaring balefully at her, he walked to the front door and turned at the last moment. "It didn't have to be like this…"

"_**Goodbye**_."

_**Liz Phair – Supernova**_

Turning over in bed, Sybil smiled at the man beside her. Vimes smiled back at his new wife, his body tingling as he remembered the night before. His smile deepened wolfishly and he pulled her closer, swallowing her laughter as his body eagerly anticipated a repeat.

_**The Cure – Lovesong**_

"Sorry, Your Grace, we're having a problem with the clacks tonight," the man tailed off as he saw Vimes's expression darken further.

"Fix it," he hissed in a voice that allowed no arguing. "This is a vitally important message, if you don't fix it I will personally make sure you will never work again, got it?"

Swallowing nervously, the man ran into the tower. A tense 15 minutes followed before the shaking man beckoned for Vimes to relay the message. Glowering, Vimes did so.

Shortly afterwards in Ankh-Morpork, Sybil opened a clacks message from her husband.

"Will be home soon. Miss you xxx" Smiling, she touched the paper to her lips. If she concentrated she could still smell his cigars.

_**Original Dixieland Jazz Band – Skeleton Jangle**_

"Gods Sybil, I don't dance," Vimes groaned as the band swung into a jaunty jazz tune. Sybil was a remarkably good dancer, but then she'd been born into the kind of family that went to these functions all the time.

"Oh Sam, come on, everyone else is," Sybil tugged at his arm and he reluctantly followed her to the dance floor.

As they began swaying to the beat, Vimes discovered a very good reason why he could dance to jazz. Being a well-endowed lady, none of Sybil's dresses quite concealed her impressive cleavage. As she moved around the floor, Vimes was in a prime position to fully appreciate the battle her bust had with the neckline. As the tempo increased, his eyes widened slightly, and he vowed to himself that he was never leaving Sybil alone on the dance floor again.

_**Ben Folds Five – Jesusland**_

Vimes trudged up Scoone Avenue. Mansion after mansion looked down upon him. Funny how all the posh folk were on the Ankh side of the river, living their identical little lives, thinking themselves important when in actual fact life is happening all around them. Rich or poor, you still get vapourised by flying dragons, he thought sourly. Just because you live in a bloody great house, with lots of money – make that old money because somehow that's supposed to be better, how, he didn't know – it doesn't make you _better_. In his experience rich folk were more ill mannered than poor folk, and quite often tried barking it at you from an insipid face with no chin. There was a form of honesty with poor folk, they never tried to tell you they were better than you.

"Mad dragon lady" Colon had called her. Vimes stood and stared at the house in front of him. It wasn't just a mansion, it was the biggest one in the area.


End file.
